


Heat Beneath the Ice

by CsillaRising



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha!Thor, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Even if he's an enemy commander, Jotun!Loki, Loki is a manipulative little shit, M/M, Prisoner of War, Strategist!Thor, War, Which Thor finds strangely attractive, and Loki smells fantastic, omega!Loki, vicious!Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:59:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5252549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CsillaRising/pseuds/CsillaRising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time that Thor saw him was in the aftermath of a battle. Asgard had been making significant and steady progress, pushing the Jotun lines back towards their capital city. The blue warrior race fought fiercely, but they were no match for Asgard’s finest.</p><p>At least, not until he appeared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Beneath the Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to my second Loki/Thor story on Archive X) I'm really excited to start this one, it's been in my head for a while. I hope you all enjoy it! :)
> 
> As an aside note--you didn't read incorrectly, this *is* alpha/beta/omega, but it's not mentioned until towards the end of the chapter. There are a lot of politics involved with that part, so let me say right now that of course I do not condone Asgard's policies on the matter (And, you may notice, Thor doesn't like them either).

The first time that Thor saw him was in the aftermath of a battle. Asgard had been making significant and steady progress, pushing the Jotun lines back towards their capital city. The blue warrior race fought fiercely, but they were no match for Asgard’s finest.

At least, not until he appeared.

It was a particularly cold day that he first heard of him, even for Jotunheim, and the climate was beginning to wear on the men’s spirits. So when they progressed no further than they had the day before, Thor had been inclined to blame their lack of advancement on the weather. But then the reports started flowing in—the foremost lines had been halted by some kind of magical barrier, and anyone who approached it abruptly flickered out of existence. Some of the reports mentioned a diminutive Jotun mage spiriting them away, smaller and more fragile looking than the rest of its race.

Thor was intrigued, and naturally decided that he would deal with this issue personally. But when he arrived in the place that the barrier was supposed to exist, it was gone. None of his men could explain it—they insisted that it had been present not an hour previously. Thor shrugged off this mystery and decided to stick to their previous plans, advancing towards the large, icy mountain range that surrounded the capital city.

They were, of course, suspecting an ambush. It was too good a place for one, and the mountain range was Jotunheim’s last true defense in Thor’s eyes. They were ready for it.

Thor sent his mages and scouts toward the area first, trying to uncover the enemy’s strategy for defense. But one by one, the scouts and mages reported back with confusion in their eyes. There was nothing prepared, not a single Jotun in sight. They assured him again and again that they had thoroughly investigated their assigned areas, and Thor was certain that they had scoped out every possible crevice and cave.

They were supposed to push on that day to remain on his father’s schedule, but Thor halted their progress. Something was wrong. He was no fool, and he was not willing to sacrifice any of his men in a blind attempt to make it through the pass. Instead, he decided to sleep on it and make a decision the following day.

*****

The next morning he finished strapping on the leather that would lie beneath his armor and was messily braiding back pieces of his frost-bitten hair when one of the scouts stumbled into his tent, looking nervous and excited. Thor didn’t mention his lack of decorum—he largely encouraged his men to treat him as they would anyone else—and listened intently to what the eager young man had to say.

“We found them! We found the Jotuns, they’re inside of the ice!” the scout told him breathlessly.

Thor beamed, and pressed for details. Finally, they had discovered the Jotun method of attack, and it was a weak one at that. A small group of warriors had disguised themselves within the ice and were waiting for their approach in order to break out. It wasn’t nearly as many as Thor had expected. They must have been wearing their enemy even more thinly than he had imagined. After reappraising the situation and sending another mage to validate the scout’s information, Thor was satisfied that they could press forwards.

Despite the feebleness of the Jotuns’ plans, he was averse to merely plowing his way through their attack. Instead he strategized. He was limited in what he was able to do—the passes were narrow and slick with smooth, sheer walls that were impossible to scale. Thor could fly, however, and several of his mages were able to teleport themselves very short distances.

So it was that they were able to surround the hundred or so warriors that had awaited them in the pass. Thor’s company rushed in from the front, made to look more disorganized than they truly were, while Thor and his mages attacked their flank. Or, at least, that was what was supposed to happen.

What actually happened was that they rushed the Jotuns, and the Jotuns just… vanished. Flickered out of existence as though they were never there.

The Aesir men and women stopped the attack, blinking in surprise, and Thor’s heart hammered furiously. _What was going on?_ Whatever it was couldn’t be good, and the deep rumbling sound he heard a split second later verified that feeling.

“Get out of the pass!” Thor roared, and his men—confused and suddenly disorganized—stumbled over each other to go back the way they came. Thor and the mages swiftly exited, but not everyone was so lucky. The avalanche swallowed a tenth of his men, fifty or so dead in an instant, and there was no time to mourn them.

Because as the Asgardians rushed out of the pass in a desperate bid for their lives, they rushed straight into the Jotun army that had somehow doubled in behind them. _Where had they come from?!_ Thor and his party had been diligently tracking the enemy movements, carefully herding them and cornering them until the capital city was all that was left. So how was this possible?

The fight was desperate and bloody, for all that they still outnumbered the Jotun party. They had been unprepared for this fight, and even though they were highly trained, it took them a moment to regroup and adjust.

As soon as they were working as a unit again, however, the Jotuns drew back and vanished. The Asgardians hadn’t even managed to fully take down a single Jotun, though perhaps if they were lucky a few would die from their wounds.

“We need to get out of here and figure out what is going on,” a steady female voice said from behind Thor. He turned to see Sif approaching him, blood smeared across her face from a wound on her forehead. “As long as they fight like cowards, we have no chance,” his childhood friend and sub-commander advised.

“Blocking the pass was a desperate and foolish move,” Another of Thor’s good friends joined them. Hogun’s face was still and unreadable as ever, “That was their last way in or out of their city. They have blocked themselves off from their trade routes, except from above, and have cut themselves off from their villages and whatever remains of their army. We can wait them out.”

Thor wasn’t so sure. A couple hours ago he would have agreed completely—the reason they hadn’t truly considered an avalanche was because the Jotuns needed the pass. That, and from what the Asgardians could tell by all of the scouting they had done, it had appeared that there had been no one around to start one.

Thor squinted up at the mountains in consideration.

That was when he spotted him. Roughly six feet tall—which was tiny compared to the Jotun average of eight feet—and slender, the man watched the Asgardian retreat from high upon the icy bluffs. At this distance Thor couldn’t quite see his face, but got the impression that he was beautiful, especially when compared to his large, burly cohorts which Thor found unattractive. His long, raven black hair was windblown and glinted with bright gemstones, and his close-fitting garments covered him from head to toe in a decidedly un-Jotunlike fashion.

Thor stared for a moment, watching him with a hand raised to protect his vision from Jotunheim’s wintery glare. The Jotun felt his gaze and seemed to meet it, his lips quirking up into a thin, vicious smile. Then he disappeared, as insubstantial as the rest of his army seemed to be.

Thor pressed his fingers against his eyes and turned away. He was done with the Jotuns and their tricks for the day, and he agreed with Sif. “We will retreat to the ice forest and I will consult with my father. Perhaps he has encountered this Jotun tactic before.”

Sif nodded, and she and Hogun moved out to get the rest of their people together.

*****

Thor cleanly sliced his finger with a dagger and held it out for the mage, who guided it over the large bowl of still water and let his blood drip into it three times. The man had already prepared the rest of the spell, and he nodded at his prince, letting him know that it was ready for the words that would activate it.

“Odin Borson,” Thor said clearly with the practiced ease of someone who had done so countless times. The water rippled and then stilled as his father’s likeness appeared on it.

“Thor,” the Allfather greeted calmly, “Heimdall tells me that you were defeated at the pass into the city. I expect that you have questions.”

“I do,” Thor replied, long used to his father knowing everything without having to tell him. “But this battle was… odd. It was as though the Jotuns were ghosts, disappearing every time we sought to attack.”

Odin raised a brow, “Heimdall believes that the warriors who awaited you in the pass were an illusion. It must have been a masterful one to convince an entire army, but an illusion nonetheless. He says that the men waiting for you after the avalanche, however, must have been real because of the damage they inflicted. It is this that tells me we are dealing with something very rare and dangerous—a true Jotun mage.”

Thor frowned, “Rare? Hardly, we’ve run into Jotuns with magic before. Though I grant you it has never been like _this_.”

Odin shook his head, “Jotun mages by blood are different than their typical magic users. They are shorter and slighter, but their magic is far more potent.”

“I saw him,” Thor said, surprised. He remembered the man up in the pass, smirking at him as the Asgardians retreated.

“You must be wary with that one. The Jotuns are very secretive when it comes to their mages, cloaking them from even Heimdall’s gaze. I do not know the full extent of his abilities. To succeed here, you must take the mage out first. Alive if possible, but dead if necessary.”

Thor nodded and finished up his report before the mage that was assisting him ended the contact. The prince cleaned himself up and changed quickly out of his armor before pushing aside the flap to his tent and joining his men outside. He winced at the sudden drop in temperature, thankful once more for the mages who helped control the temperature in their tents.

The men and women who made up his army were still setting up camp, and Thor immediately offered his assistance. They had everything set up within the hour. The snow was melted, the campfires were lit and shielded by magic from enemy eyes, and dinner was being made. The soldiers huddled together for warmth and drank heated mead, everyone bundled heavily in furs. Thor sighed at the unusually sullen atmosphere. Usually these times were full of story-telling and wild boasts to take their minds away from the cold, but not after a defeat like this one. They were still trying to figure out how many soldiers had been lost since they had been unable to recover all of the bodies of the men and women who had been taken by the avalanche.

“May I sit here?” A smooth voice asked him. Thor looked up and was met with dazzling green eyes. He stared, breathless for a moment, before taking in the rest of the man’s appearance. He had long, glossy black hair, sharp features, and was more slender than most of the men. This was emphasized by the fact that he was not bundled up in multiple layers of fur.

Thor frowned, “Aren’t you cold?”

The newcomer shrugged, “Not especially. My magic helps to keep me warm.”

Ah. A mage then. Male magi were less common than female ones, but when they did crop up they tended to be more powerful, so they were eagerly employed by the army. “I don’t believe I know you,” Thor said after a moment.

The man smirked. Was that smile familiar? “No, your highness, we have never met. I arrived this morning with the magi sent to relieve your previous team.”

Thor nodded. That made sense. They had to cycle out their magi once every couple of days to keep them from burning out.

“So, am I not allowed to sit, then?” his voice was light and teasing. Thor flushed and quickly made room for him, gesturing for him to make himself comfortable. The other man sat gracefully, perhaps a bit too close to Thor than was acceptable, but Thor found that he didn’t mind. It was pleasant to have company less subdued than the rest of his friends, and it didn’t hurt that the company also happened to be quite lovely.

“I confess I don’t know much about Jotunheim,” the mage said after a moment, his voice like silk, “Would you mind enlightening me? I hear that you’ve been here before.” The other man was watching Thor through long, dark lashes.

“Only on diplomatic missions. I’ve met the king and his two sons,” –here the mage raised a brow— “As well as one of their commanders, Thrym. They’re all somewhat barbaric and untrustworthy. Did you hear that Prince Helblindi had raw meat served at the last discussion we held?”

“Oh yes, I did hear that, now that you mention it,” the mage’s solemn tone didn’t quite match his expression. There was something in his eyes—was he laughing? Thor wasn’t sure. “You mentioned that the king had two sons, what was the other one’s name? I can’t quite recall.”

“Byleistr. He’s not as bad as his older brother, as far as I know, but blood is blood and that entire family is rotten,” Thor said darkly. He shook his head and changed the topic, hoping to lighten the mood. “But let us speak of something else. Tell me about yourself,” Thor suggested.

So he did. The mage came from a poor family on Vanaheim, who had just barely had enough money scraped together to allow him to attend the University, where he had studied magic for many years now. The other man brushed off most of his story as uninteresting, but Thor disagreed. His companion had a pleasant voice, and was a gifted storyteller. The prince pushed to hear more about his family—he had been raised by a single parent, since his mother had died at his birth, and he had two protective older brothers. Thor was about to ask after their names, when he realized he didn’t even know the name of the man he was talking to.

“You never mentioned your name,” he blurted out suddenly.

“Haven’t I?” the other man blinked slowly, “Forgive me, your highness, I hadn’t realized.” He extended a slender, white hand for Thor to grasp, “I am Loki.”

Green eyes watched Thor’s for a moment as though waiting for something. Thor wasn’t sure what that could be—perhaps Loki had acquired a reputation at the University, and expected Thor to recognize his name? He didn’t, though, so he hoped his companion wasn’t too disappointed. Thor took his hand, and Loki smiled. “You may call me Thor, for now. I dislike using titles on the battlefield.”

“Thor,” Loki tested his name on his tongue, and Thor had to repress a shiver of desire. There was something about this man—the way he moved, the intelligence in his eyes, the way he always seemed to be laughing at some inside joke—that made Thor want him, and badly. But Thor’s days of common, quick dalliances were over, so he made himself resist.

Still, a bed companion during a war was not an uncommon thing. Perhaps he could switch assignments around and have Loki be the one to heat his tent… and his bed. Thor rubbed his forehead and sighed. No, that wouldn’t do, the man who was helping with all of his magical requirements now had been doing an exemplary job, and replacing him would seem like a demotion. Besides, starting an affair now would just serve as a distraction, something he couldn’t afford at the moment.

Thor was just about to make some kind of excuse and leave for his tent when a shout went up somewhere in the camp. He shot to his feet as the yelling grew louder, and many of the other men and women around the campfire were rising, curious. Thor reluctantly stepped away from the warmth of the fire to see if he could root out the problem.

The shouting was emanating from inside one of the large group tents. Thor announced himself before stepping inside, only for his senses to be immediately overwhelmed by the smell of an omega.

He closed his eyes tightly and took a step back, breathing slowly. When he was sure he had himself under control, he looked to the nearest man for an explanation, face grim.

“Cyrianne is an omega,” the man said unnecessarily. “Henerick came back to the tent to retrieve something and found her like this. She must have lost her medication in the battle, because we can’t find it anywhere. Bard and I heard her yelling and ran in here to pull him off—she was lucky that we’re both betas.”

“Was she hurt?”

“No, your highness. We got here before that and,” the man who was speaking swallowed, “And Henerick seemed to be holding himself back, as much as possible anyway.”

Thor wasn’t so sure about that. After all, Thor was an alpha as well, but he was able to exhibit some self-control. He sent Henerick a dark look, and at least the man seemed to be ashamed now that he had been caught. “Take him to the stocks, for now.” Thor instructed. It wouldn’t be an overly popular decision.

“What about her?”

Yes, that was the problem, wasn’t it? Thor sighed. Omegas were not permitted in the army, and now that there was a shortage of omegas on Asgard, they certainly weren’t allowed to use Thydrocine—a supplement created by the mages at the University—to mask their pheromones.

Cyrianne was a great warrior, and a very capable soldier. She was disciplined, smart, and skilled, and an asset on the field. But she was also illegally drugging herself to pass as a beta so that she could be in the army. Thor was conflicted. If he revealed her as an omega and had her sent home in shame, she’d be immediately married off to whichever noble man made the best claim towards her. Typically omegas chose who they married, but in cases like this one, that choice was stripped from them as punishment.

Thor didn’t want to do that to her. He could feel Cyrianne watching him with pleading eyes, but he couldn’t think of what to do.

“She was badly injured in battle,” Thor jumped. He hadn’t realized that Loki had followed him into the tent until that moment. “Sometimes severe trauma can jumpstart latent hormones. That’s what happened here. She thought she was a beta until this injury revealed otherwise, so you can send her home without disgrace.”

The explanation made so much sense that Thor found himself studying Cyrianne for injury for a moment before realizing that it wasn’t the truth—Loki was providing him with an excuse. Thor gave him a grateful look.

“Of course, you’d have to make it convincing,” Loki continued, producing a wicked-looking knife of a design that Thor had not seen before.

Thor frowned.

“Please?” Cyrianne whispered, desperate. That made up Thor’s mind.

*****

They smuggled Cyrianne out and back to Asgard and the official explanation was given. Thor swore the other men involved to secrecy. Once everything had been taken care of, he could once more turn his mind to developing a new strategy to take Jotunheim’s capital.

Thor called his friends and sub-commanders to his tent to discuss strategy, and sent for several mages as well. He was on his way there when he passed close to Loki and stopped, considering. Finally he approached him.

“Loki, we are having a meeting in my tent to discuss our new strategy. You were helpful today—I would like to see what else you can do. Would you like to join us?”

Loki looked surprised, but then a slow smile stole across his features. “Oh, _would_ I.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a fun little story about Loki and Thor on opposite sides of a war, with Loki all sneaky and clever and Thor all determined and strategic, but somehow I can't seem to write a story without being like, Politics! Social Structure! Depressing situations!
> 
> Ahem. Anyway, hope you still liked it!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think so far! :) 
> 
> Preview for next chapter: Loki's POV:
> 
> Loki watched the Asgardian mages with amusement as they readied the strategy board, creating a somewhat decent likeness of Jotunheim’s capital. Asgardians were so funny with all of the pomp, circumstance, and ritual they surrounded their magic with. Loki was just thankful that, as he was invited merely to advise, he was not expected to join in. He didn’t think he could help them throw some kind of dried herb and chant without mocking them.


End file.
